The Beautiful Beast
by Bubblesup
Summary: A shadowed figure slipped their hand in the cracked window and pulled in open. It was just enough so that this figure could gracefully crawl in. The moon to her back kept her identity hidden as she walked away from the window, deeper and deeper into the castle. A modern day retelling of Beauty and the Beast.


❦The Beautiful Beast

By Lily-WhitePrincess

* * *

File B.B.G.G.

(Beauty and the Beast Gallagher Girls)

* * *

A shadowed figure slipped their hand in the cracked window and pulled in open. It was just enough so that this figure could gracefully crawl in. The moon to her back kept her identity hidden as she walked away from the window, deeper and deeper into the castle.

Once it became too dark for her to see, she lit a candle that she had brought. Cameron's face reflected the small flame. Her blonde hair with dark highlights at the ends was pulled back into a high ponytail. She had a mission on her hands and she was determined to complete it.

Her shadow bounded off the walls of the huge building, but only one small teacup saw it.

* * *

"Momma," she cried, hopping and clopping through the halls until she came to the kitchen. She interrupted a talk that had been between a tea pot, a candle, a duster, and a clock with a small pendulum sliding back and forth.

"Momma, there is a girl in the castle!"

The teapot hopped over to the cup, tsking, "Now, now, Liz; what have I told you about telling fibs?"

"But it's true, I saw her!" Said the little teacup, frowning.

Rachael glanced behind her to find the others whispering and rolled her eyes. They were most than likely talking about this "girl" no doubt. No human female has walked these halls for many years, why would they start now?

"Enough," she said to the cup. "It is late and you are tired. Please-"

"But I'm not," she yawned, "sleepy at all..."

"_Please _head up and wash for bed," Rachael requested with a hidden order. If there was one thing she detested more than anything, it was being interrupted. She gave Liz a nice push toward the door before returning to the group.

"Do you think it could be true?" inquired the duster, who held a slight British accent.

"I should like to think so," puffed the candle holder, which technically was the candle, "since Liz is not one to lie. Why do-"

"But the chances that _she_ is _the one_, well, that slims our chances considerably," interrupted the clock, calculating in his head.

"But she's here, isn't she?" demanded the candle holder. "That must count for something..."

They all glanced at the teapot, who still had yet to say anything. She was staring at the floor, almost with a lost expression on her glass face. She opened her mouth, about to speak, but sighed instead. "Children, it has been too long since our last visitor and my patience draws thin. No, I am too old to hope anymore," she finished, turning her back on them and heading to bed.

The others were silent for a time, each deep in their own thoughts, until the duster swished to the door. "And where are you going," inquired the candle holder.

"Oh, Grant," she drawled in exasperation. "There is a _girl_ out in those halls and you two just want to sit here? Poppycock! This girl could be the bloody one! Stay if you'd like, but I am going to speak with her."

The two males glanced at each other before running to the door. "Hey, wait for us!"

* * *

Cameron moved slowly, letting her stealth kick in. Now she can understand why Napoleon Central was suspicious about this place. It was the perfect place for a terrorist group, _or a witch cult_, she thought, _this place is totally legit!_

The young girl turned down another hallway, coming to two large, wooden doors. She checked to see if the door was locked, but it wasn't. The wooden structure creaked as she opened it, making her wince. That was loud. _Way to wake the whole world up, _she chided herself mentally.

Peeking around the door, she found another hallway; but unlike the others, this one was not decorated in any sort of medieval style. It was long, and the only other exit was at the far end, where the doors were open. She moved for it.

On her right side, there was a large window that almost completely took up the wall. She moved quickly while she was bathed in the moonlight, feeling very exposed. She wished for the darkness, the shadows, to cover her, to help her to blend in. She couldn't help it, –she was a pavement artist- it was part of her inmost being to be a chameleon. To be invisible to the world, it was part of her job description.

She had graduated a few years back and was still fairly new to her occupation. Don't get me wrong, she has studied her line of work practically all of her life, this is why she is so good.

But even Cameron had her limits. NC had assigned her this mission because even though she was very young, she was (is) one of the best. Cameron had even thought that this mission was going to be cake. She had thought that this mission was so easy that she had left her best gadgets behind.

She was not having such thoughts now. No, ma'am. Right now she was wishing for a gun in her hand, or at least a stun-gun. What had she been thinking? There could be a group of killers here, or worse, and all she had was a candle, which was lit, and a few nepotine patches. Great, just brilliant.

"Hey! Yeah, you girl, wait!"

"'You girl'? That's the best you could come up with? Really, Rebecca, that is just terrible," said a voice from above.

Cameron looked up to see a second story balcony to her left. How to get up to that balcony she could only guess. _They found me_, shouted her mind. Her nice pace turned into a sprint as she headed for the doorway, but then, something landed on her head.

"Stop, I tell you!" Screamed a voice from overhead, but Cam was trying to remove whatever it was from her head. She felt feathers and started to jerk on them.

"Ouch!" cried a voice, "that hurt!"

Something else landed on Cameron's arm, weighing it down a little.

"Madam, I think you should really calm dowwwwn," a male voice yelled as he was thrown. Something gripped onto her leg, making her look down. It was a clock, with arms! It was saying, "Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea," over and over again. Cam began to hop on one foot and she tried to dislodge him. _They're high tech robots_, her mind concluded in a panic. _They're not really talking, yes, that's right._

"Will you please stop?" Shouted the feminine voice that was still upon Cameron's head, "We are just trying to tell you-"

A loud bang echoed throughout the hall.

Everyone stilled, leaving Cam in a frozen position with one leg out and both arms upon her head.

The door that Cameron had come through had slammed shut.

"Uh-oh," whispered the clock. All three things of odd assortments abandoned Cameron and ran for the still open doors at the other end of the hall. Not wanting to question what had scared the little robots, Cam began to run as well, dropping her candle.

But right as Cam was about to reach the door, it slammed shut. She pushed on it and banged her fists, but the door would not budge.

Turning back, Cam tried to remain calm. A few of her chin-length bangs fell from her ponytail as she stared at the little flame of the candle she had dropped, still glowing brightly. Studying the other end of the hall, Cam tried to make out something, anything, but there were just too many shadows.

"What are you doing here?" demanded a cold voice, making Cameron's heart beat faster. She was gathering the courage to reply when the lonely candle blew out, leaving her in darkness.

She tried to determine where the voice was coming from, but it felt as if this person was everywhere and nowhere all at once! _Don't panic_, she told herself, trying to take control of her raging heart.

"Well?" asked the voice. She jumped away from her left, hearing this mysterious male figure at her side. But when she searched the shadows, there was no one to be found.

Someone was toying with her.

This small revelation made her angry, fuming. She schooled her face, not letting her emotions show. This was not a good situation to be in. But what can she tell him? Not her mission, obviously.

"I am searching for my father," she said randomly, hating how her voice shook. Of all the things she could have said, it had to be a truth; a _whole_ truth._ Cameron, _her mind screamed.

Well, it was true. She had been searching for her father while she worked cases. Multitasking, you know?

There was a pause. Did he believe her?

"Come into the light," said the voice.

Cameron tried to quickly form calculations. There was no way she could reach the balcony, and the doors were locked. The large window was an option if she could find a way to break it... Hopefully this guy didn't have a gun.

Taking one cautious step after another, Cam slowly made her way back into the moonlight, since there was no other option at the present. Once she was fully in the light, she turned circles, trying to locate the speaker. Having about enough of this Marco polo game, Cameron opened her mouth, intending to ask, _now what?_ But she never had her chance.

The words were a forced jumble as a force landed on her back. Throwing out her hands to catch herself, Cam grunted upon impact. _Ouch. _

She quickly gathered the strength to rise, sensing her opponent behind her, but then another force sent her back to the ground, penning her there. She felt someone breathing down on her neck, sending a shiver down her back. Oh, how she wished had her pocket knife. _Dumb, Cammie, so dumb._ Was this guy going to killer her? Torture her? She hadn't gone all ninja on those robots, so there was no way that this guy could know that she was valuable.

"What brought you to search for him here?" demanded the voice, letting her catch a sniff of his minty breath. How odd... _Cameron, focus! He just asked you a question!_

"I," she hesitated, wondering how she could get out of this without compromising herself. "I tracked him...to here."_ Please, just take it._

"What business would your father have here?" The voice growled. She placed her forehead to the cold, wooden floor, wishing that she could just get away from this creep.

"I truly have no idea," she whispered, letting her body limp in defeat. _Except for mom,_ she added mentally, but blocked out any other thoughts. It wouldn't do for her to have a break down on a mission, much less in front of an enemy.

"I don't believe that," he whispered, but continued, "What is your father's name?"

_Tell, don't tell, tell, and don't tell?_

"Rick Johnston," she said, wishing to kick herself for how she tensed; it was a dead giveaway for any junior spy, but would this guy know that?

"Do _not _lie to me," he said.

_Or else, _her mind finished. Well, that was a threat if she had ever heard one.

"Mark Solomon," she snapped. _Partial truth._

She suddenly felt her arm being forced behind her back, slowing being twisted. She threw back her head, hoping to connect with his, but she hit nothing. This guy was trained.

Once she gasped at the pain that was escalating from her shoulder, only then did the pressure ease. She let her head fall back onto the hard floor, her chest heaving once again.

If it had been classified information, had it been details of any sort that might have jeopardized the mission, had it been any other question, she might have withheld much, much longer. But this was her father's _name. _His name had been released to the general public a long time ago. If you had googled him, you would have found a site that had him under the list of "missing parent." It would break no boundaries by giving that up, but, then again, there was a con with every pro. _If I give up his name, I will be giving up my last name. Is that a risk I am really willing to take?_

"Joe Solomon…his name is Joe Solomon," she breathed, already regretting the decision.


End file.
